Saved by Grace
by Ceara Ivory
Summary: If Belle can find the man of her dreams in a Beast, if Princess Fiona can fall in love with an ogre, and if a woman can cry at the lost of her giant gorilla king, then even Voldemort can find his own true love and be Saved By Grace
1. Chapter 1

Saved by Grace

Written by Chibikan

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do own Grace.

Summary: Everyone deserves there chance at true love. Even the monster-like Dark Lord.

Chapter 1

Voldemort loved the screams of helpless muggles. It was music to his ears. He watched with glee as the middle-aged man and woman writhed in pain.

"Master," began one of his faithful servants, a woman with wild-black hair. "Would you like to finish them now?"

A sneer appear on his visage and he pulled out his wand of yew. This was the best part of all. Forcefully rending apart the fabric of one's life. How his heart soared as he thought about how much power he had. He delightfully shouted the two words and watched as the lovely green light caught the two by surprise and their faces bore such wonderful expressions of terror. What a thrill that filled him from the inside out. Then the screams turned abruptly to blissful silence. A sadistic smile lit the old wizard's snowy complexion. "Well, I'd say our work here is done." he stated simply, preparing to lead the way out. 

But then there came the sound of a jingling outside the front door. The jingling was followed by the sound of a lock clicking. Voldemort and his followers froze in surprise. None of them had expected this. This never happened before. The door opened slowly and in walked a young woman with chestnut hair. She hung her coat up and brushed some lint from her skirt and blouse.

"Mom," she called, not yet noticing anything was wrong as she went into a room just past the entry way. The sound of running water could be heard. "Please, don't set me up with any of your colleagues' relatives again. That David was a total perve." The water turned off and she came walking out, still noticing nothing, "I had to literally shove into the fountain before he..." she stopped as she finally saw the Death Eaters. "Uh, hello. I didn't know we had company."

Voldemort fingered his wand. What should he do. He didn't have the strength for another killing curse. But he couldn't let the others know that. He needed to stall, big time. Finally he knew.

"Actually, my dear, we are not really company. We just had some business to take care of." He lifted his wand. "And now, we just need you." Wordlessly, he cast a sleeping spell, taking the muggle girl off-guard. He caught her in his arms. "She'll make a fine torture victim. The Potter boy should enjoy this immensely." his comment raised laughter amongst his men. He led the way out, just after casting the Dark Mark into the sky. 

AN: And we have the two characters somewhat meeting for the first time. This is a new take on the Voldemort meets a muggle and finds true love storyline that I began with Not Me. Not Me, I'm afraid is officially abandoned. It will be removed. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't seem to work anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning, the girl came to. She found herself in, what seemed to be, a basement. Except there were walls of bars around her. What had happened to her?

Just as she was pondering what might have happened, the sound of footsteps could be heard. A short, rotund man stood before her moments later.

"Good, you're awake." He slid open the barred door. "Come with me."

The girl stood and followed the strange man. "Excuse me," she said politely. "Could you tell me where I am? And what I am doing here?"

The man answered the first question, "You're in Riddle Manor."

"Oh," she said, unsure how to continue. "Um, again, what am I doing here? I should be at home. My parents will worry, you see. Not to be rude, it's a nice place to be sure, I'm just a little confused as to why I am here."

The man continued, "Your parents will not worry, they are dead."

A shuddering gasp of horror reached Wormtail and he continued, "And you are now a prisoner of the Dark Lord." He turned to see her reaction. Most likely, fear and sorrow. Yes, her eyes were shining with tears.

"H...how...what happened to them?" she asked, not caring for Wormtail's last remark.

The was unexpected. Didn't she understand. Obviously, the Dark Lord had killed them. She should be frightened, begging him to help her escape, as all the other previous prisoners had. "The Dark Lord killed them of course. Muggles have no use in this world. You are lucky, he has decided to keep you alive for...

awhile." Again he looked back on the girl. He wanted to see the hatred, the anger that was also commonplace when prisoners found out that their families were dead by their master's hand. But it wasn't there. The tears he had seen before, seemed to have vanished, save for two strays at trailed her cheeks.

"But don't be afraid," he tried to assure her, suddenly wanting to comfort her. After all, it took a lot of guts not to plead for one's life and she wasn't doing it.

But a smile appeared on her face. "Afraid, I'm not afraid. I am grateful to you for being honest to me about my parents and my situation. But I'm not afraid."

That declaration caught Wormtail by surprise. All prisoners were supposed to be scared to death of the Dark Lord. How would Voldemort react to this.

He led her to a stone room filled with an eerie green light given off by the many candles set up on the wall. In a large circle, stood many figures in black cloaks and skull masks.

The girl had quickly summed up her predicament according to what the man had told her. She remembered a lesson she had learned as a child. Never show anger or fear to those who hurt you. So even as she was brought before the fearsome pale, snake-like face and peered into the fiery orbs that regarded with disdain, she stood straight, with a kind, friendly expression.

One of the men shoved her down into the stone floor. But she did not shout in anger or pain, just stood and brushed the dirt and resulting wrinkles from her skirt. She looked directly into those eyes to the astonishment of all around.

None spoke a word for several moments, so she decided to begin. "I assume that you are Voldemort?"

Gasps echoed off the walls of stone, no one called the Dark Lord by name. Least of all a mere muggle.

The Dark Lord cocked an eyebrow and nodded.

The girl grinned and extended her hand, "Pleased to meet you, I'm Grace."

The Death Eaters waited with bated breath. How could this girl behave so calmly? What would their master do?

Slowly, Voldemort took the profferred hand and shook it, unsure of how else to proceed. "You are not afraid, girl? You do understand what is about to happen, do you not?"

Grace nodded, "It is my guess that, understanding that you killed my mom and dad, you are going to do the same to me, although I must admit, I am at a loss as to why. But, I am not afraid." she replied with a steady voice.

This answer clearly intrigued Voldemort, who put a hand to his chin, and another to his wand. "Let's see if we can't change that, shall we?" He raised his wand. "CRUCIO!"

Grace screamed as she felt as though she were being turned inside out. Screams filled the room, filled the halls of the manor. Slowly her screams became pants as the Dark Lord removed the spell. She fought to maintain her footing but not fear ever touched her face.

"Well," Voldemort asked, "Do you fear me now?"

Grace shook her head. "That hurt, I will say. But I'm not afraid." she refused to be

Voldemort jabbed the wand at her again, and again the halls filled with her high-pitched screams. "NOW!" he shouted in maniacal delight, sure she must fear him now. "Do you fear me now!" Her screams stopped suddenly, although the curse was still on her, and she painstakingly brought her green eyes up to his red ones, meeting them. The sight forced him to cut off the curse. A long rough cough racked his old, frail form. Those two powerful curses had taken a lot out of him.

"Are you alright?" Grace asked, with genuine concerned, not caring at all that she'd just been tortured.

Voldemort eyed her with confusion, her attitude bewildered him, as the coughing fit subsided. "You will be spared today, Lord Voldemort rewards bravery. But you are my prisoner. Don't forget that. I can kill you at any moment." he motioned for Wormtail to take her away and he dismissed the others. He needed time, lots of time, to think. Time to try and figure out this strange muggle girl.

AN: Another chapter. Hope you all liked it. I modeled Grace off of Tohru from Fruits Basket.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Author's Explanation: Grace may seem very Mary-Sue, but if you read the Fruits Basket manga, you'll find she's not much different from Tohru. Also, keep in mind, she is in survival mode. What she's doing is throwing him and the others so off-kilter that they don't know how to handle her, so there's a major stall going on. It's no fun just killing the muggles. He wants them to fear him and hear their hatred for him, oozing out from all pores first. But she won't fear him or hate him, so that puts a wrench in the works. But seeing as how Voldemort is such a hard nut to crack, I felt it better to tell the story from his point of view. He's sort of our Akito, in a big way. And seeing as how Voldemort can't stand kindness from anyone, he can't get near her for a long while. This story is in actuality a very loose adaptation of that manga. I have specific recipes for the characters, and I follow them quite well. Grace seems a bit up in the air because we haven't seen much of her yet. Again, this is Voldemort's POV.

That was August, nearly September. Not it was almost Christmas and Voldemort was no closer to answer to the answer to the riddle that was this Grace. He learned much about her from his followers. Like, for instance, her biological parents had been killed in a car crash when she very young and the couple he'd killed were really her adopted parents.

As for his followers, it seemed that they were growing quite friendly with the girl. Each of them took it in turn to take her necessities to her and each of them got a chance to speak with her. And it seemed that she had quite a gift with words and each time, the one sent down would always come back up looking more at ease and cheerful after those long chats.

"This is a problem," he said to himself. "If she remains and this is allowed to continue, then they will become more loyal to her than to me. They will turn on me, betray me. All of them, against me, I would stand a chance." Voldemort pondered.

There was a rapping on his chamber door and Wormtail peered in. "Master, I have your morning tea," he whelled in the tea car and set up a china saucer and cup and poured the tea and added two lumps of sugar, just the way his master liked it. He offered it the Dark Lord.

Voldemort reached to take the cup, but stopped as he noticed a deep purple scarf wrapped around his servant's neck, "Where did you get that?"

Gone was the usual fear and trembling from his weak-minded servant. Wormtail simply replied, "The scarf? It's a gift from Miss. Grace. She made each of us one for Christmas. She made Bella and Narcissa stoles."

Voldemort drank the tea in one gulp and stood up. "Okay, enough is enough! I'm going to take care of her, right now!" he placed the cup back on the tea tray and walked out the door. The nerve of the girl, even stealing away his most loyal servant. How dare she?! Well, she was going to pay! He was going to be rid of her, TODAY!

He stomped down the stairs to the cell, wand in hand. He saw her knitting something, a rather large something. She sang softly to herself, "As long as there's Christmas, I truly believe..." She was so involved in her knitting and singing that she didn't notice Voldemort there.

He was tempted just to do it and be done with it. But a nagging in his head told him to at least ask her the questions foremost in his mind. "Ahem!"

She looked up and positively beams at seeing him. "Hello, I was wondering if you were ever going to come see me."

That smile, that's what he hated the most about her. The same smile from the first day. He couldn't stand that. "You really don't fear me, do you?" he asked, her smile throwing him off-kilter. "You don't even flinch at the sight of me!"

Grace shook her head, "No, I don't. And why should I flinch, I don't understand." she said innocently.

He stammered, he actually stammered, "My...my face...and my eyes. Everyone is frightened away from me by my face alone."

Her brow furrowed, "Now that seems just mean. To judge someone based on how they look," she clearly did not agree. "You are different, everyone is different."

Voldemort jumped at those words. No one had ever said that to him.

She continued, "And to be scared seems to be a waste of whatever valuable time I have left. You've made it clear that you intend to kill me. I want to make good use of my short time left." She knitted as she spoke. "And before you ask, no, I don't hate you either, yet another waste of time. I refuse to wallow in self-pity over it."

He wondered how she'd figured out his next question. And her answer, it was a good one. Well, now his questions were all answered. It was time to be done with her and he tightened his hand arond his wand. But he couldn't make his arm lift to cast the curse. Why not? Why wouldn't his body obey his wishes. He had to stall or she'd think he was crazy just standing there. "What is that?" he asked

Grace answered, "Your Christmas present. But it's not quite done yet. You'll have to wait until Christmas to find out."

That settled it. He couldn't go through with it, yet. If he did he'd never find out what it was, he told himself. He'd kill her then. He could wait until Christmas Morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

To the Dark Lord, Christmas was just another day. He'd never in his life had a reason to celebrate it. It was just another on the long list of things that he associated with terrible memories. But, when Wormtail brought his breakfast, he also brought a package wrapped with Father Christmas print paper.

"A gift for you from Miss. Grace, Master." Wormtail by way of explanation.

Voldemort growled his acceptance and ordered Wormtail out. The breakfast tray sat forgotten as Voldemort eyed the gift in his lap as if it were something big and poisonous and wanting to bite him. He gingerly tugged at a corner of the paper. Then, cautiously, he tore the corner. He used a long finger to finish the job of slitting the paper the rest of the way. Finally he slid out something soft and neatly folded. Unfolding it, he found it was a robe, black with sage-green trim. It was made of a nice, soft, warm wool. He eyed it with mixed feelings and he stood to try it on. It fit perfectly (one of his followers must have given her his measurements). He tied it, oh how warm it made him feel. He felt caught up in the joy of the gift for a bright moment before remembering his intention. He took of the robe, distressed. The girl was nuisance and inspired feelings of mutiny among his followers. He needed to get rid of her. For the first time in his long career of evil, he was hesitant about killing a muggle. He stroked the soft, warm, wool. He had to, at least, go down there. He to at least try.

So he stood and made the long walk down to the "dungeon".

Grace was sitting on her cot, waiting. Voldemort was dismayed to see her face light up at his presence. "Merry Christmas," she saw the robe draped over his elbow, clutched tightly to his chest. "Do you like it?" she asked brightly.

He said nothing for a few moments. What could he say? There was that irritating smile again. Every time, it just threw him for a loop, and he didn't know how to continue. It was much easier when his victims were angry and screamed or begged for mercy. But she, she did neither. And instead... she did things like this. He could never meet those green eyes because he knew they would show kindness and caring and he couldn't stand it. He thrust the robe in front of him.

"Why!" he demanded. "Why give me a gift when I'm going to kill you?! Why are you so nice to me when I killed your family. I don't understand. You should hate me!" he shouted his temper flaring.

"Why?" Grace asked simply.

"Why!" Voldemort screamed. "You ask me 'WHY?'" I'm a killer, I'm a monster, I'm evil! I've killed whole families. Men, women, children, BABIES! Everyone hates me! Even my followers hate me! They only stick around because they're afraid of me! You should hate me TOO!" he finished daring to look up now, as his temper tapered off. A trail of tears blemished her pink cheeks. "See, NOW you fear me!

You really do hate me! Knowing what I've done!" he turned away, his rant having tired him significantly. He felt a pain deep inside him and he didn't know why.

Then he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He looked down the girl, into those eyes and was shocked into absolute nothing. He didn't see hatred, nor fear. He saw only compassion and kindness. He understood, those tears were not for herself, but for him.

"You're very thin," she said, "and this place, this house, it's cold. I'd hoped this would warm you up."

Those eyes, he could tell they spoke the truth. He started to understand, just a little. She really just wanted to be his friend. He nodded to her, allowing just the ghost of a grin, his first genuine smile in all his many long years. And she, she smiled back, that same irritating smile. Only this time, he didn't find it quite so irritating at all.

End Chapter


	5. Chapter 5

-1Chapter 5

And so, Voldemort found a true friend in Grace. He found himself going down to the dungeon at least once a day and would stay for hours. They talked about things. About funny things, silly things. Things he would never in a million years tell his followers. For example, his favorite book, Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne. And he'd been among the hundreds camping outside theaters waiting for Star Wars.

He laughed, "Yes, I told the others that day would be a holiday because it was Slytherin's birthday."

Grace laughed with him, "And they bought it?"

"I thought so, until I found out they had all planned on being there. Luckily, I was in disguise. They would never let me live it down if they'd caught me."

"Who would've thought, huh?" she suggested, sniggering and twittering with him.

He nodded, and the laughter grew. He was surprised to find himself enjoying their talks. He could see why the others liked her and no longer wished her harm. So day after day, he spent more and more time with her. Even when the talks stepped into more serious territory.

On one such day...

"Tell me," he began for no apparent reason, for lack of a better topic. "What is your dream?"

Grace smiled, "Well, I love children and I would love to own and run a home for orphaned children."

Voldemort's eyebrows went upward, how did she always manage to say things that made him think of his past. "An orphanage," he look away.

"I'm sorry," Grace said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." she didn't want himangry with her.

He shook his head, "I'm fine, it's just, I grew up in an orphanage." he explained.

Grace bit her lop, "Oh? what about your mum and dad? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Silence filled the room. It was as though a dark cloud had settled over them. She waited patiently, looking at him with caring eyes.

Finally, he answered, "My mother died when I was born," he began, "And my father, he never wanted me. He was a muggle, a non-magical person, and when he found out about my mother, he abandoned her. She was so heartbroken that she fell into the deepest despair, not eating, not sleeping, neglecting to care for herself. She fell ill a few weeks before she made it to Miss. Cole's Orphanage on December 31st, 1928. I was born at midnight, and she died shortly after. At her dying request, I was given my father's name."

Grace thought to herself, 'Well, that explained alot.' She said aloud, "That must've been hard. Never knowing your mum or dad."

He agreed, "It was awful. The caretakers were abusive, the children were downright cruel. I was different, could do things that none of them could. Within my first few years, I was labeled a freak and was often a victim of the worst treatment. I was all alone." he kept his head facing the wall, unable to meet her eyes. "All I could do was scare them away from me, hurt them before they could hurt me, so bad that they would stay away. It worked. After I learned how to use my powers, not one of them hurt me again. Ever." he lowered his head, finishing his tale.

"So, you distanced yourself from them." Grace summed up, "And eventually, from everyone you would ever meet. Not truly befriending anyone."

He nodded, shaking at the memories. In fear, sadness, long-buried anguish being unveiled. He fought it, he couldn't let himself fall apart. He hadn't allowed this to happen since his childhood. He couldn't start now. She would laugh at him, think he was weak. He had to stop, he couldn't lose control. He wasn't five anymore.

But then, her hand, her soft, gentle hand, it touched his shoulder. "Don't fight it," she encouraged, "It's alright, you don't have to worry about anything down here." Those kind words were all it took to force the long-unshed tears out and he doubled over in his agony.

"WHY!" he sobbed, "Why did my father abandon us! Why did he hate me? Why didn't my mother try to live so she could be there with me? Why didn't anyone love me?" Then he could say no more. Like a dam bursting, all the pain that he had shoved down into the depths of his distraught soul, for a long , seventy years, came flooding out and all he could was sit there and cry into his arms.

For a moment, Grace did not see a seventy-year old man. She saw a lost, lonely, frightened little bow who desperately needed someone to care for him, to love him. She drew closer to him and wrapped her arms about him and gently rubbed his back soothingly in small circles.

Meanwhile, just outside the basement door, Wormtail sat, in much the condition as he eavesdropped and learned just what made the Master so cruel. Of course. It made so much sense. He bawled openly, at the thought of what his master, no, his friend, had gone through alone.

At least three hours passed before Voldemort was unable to shed another tear and was practically asleep in Grace's supporting arms. Wormtail brought down her supper and saw just how weakened his master was after that much needed relief.

"Here," he offered, "I'll help him up to his bed."

Grace accepted his offer, "Yes," she whispered, "he needs a nice, long, healing rest now."

Voldemort was so exhausted that he didn't even notice what was going on. Wormtail was reminded that the Dark Lord was no longer a strapping young man. He began to lead him up the stairs, and stopped. "Miss. Grace," Wormtail said, looking at her, "I don't know how, but somehow, you've managed to do so much for him, to make him so much happier. Thank you." And he turned and continued on his way.

He lead the half-asleep wizard up the stairs and into his bedchambers. Helped him to change into his bed clothes and then climb into his soft, four posted bed. The older man was completely asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Wormtail regarded him with sorrowful eyes as he pulled the coverly around the frail form. "Poor Master," then he switched off the light and slipped out the door. And Voldemort slept on in the most peaceful sleep he'd had in ages.

AN: I had a comment that Voldemort was less than canon. I have only one thing to say, DUH! This story is focusing on him, not Harry Potter, focusing on his feelings, about what's going on behind those dark robes he wears. He's not going to be canon. He's going to be extremely OOC. No one is 100 percent evil. So please forgive the OOCness. It is simply necessary. For example, the Winnie the Pooh thing and Star Wars, those are things to make him more human


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

In a run-down old orphanage, in a small room, jammed with a dozen miserable cots with scratchy cotton blankets, a little boy, no more than five, sat crying desperately. He hurt all over from the bruises left by a beating that morning.

Strange things had happened again. Somehow, when one of his many tormentors cam and stole his measly bowl of thin gruel, the bowl had leapt of i's own volition, out of the bigger boy's hands and dumped itself all over his head. The caretakers had thought he had done it, and had beat him so badly he could barely walk. And they had banned him from the mess hall the rest of the day. No meals the rest of the day. They called him a freak, a monster-child, devil-spawn.

And so he cried, alone in his misery. He tried to recall the dream he'd had the night before to chase away the hurt.

A nice lady in a long white dress had come to him and took him away from the terrible place. She had long brown hair and bright green eyes. She did not tell him her name but she talked sweetly to him and held him close as he listened. He cried that nobody loved him, that he was a monster.

She stroked his fluffy, black hair and replied, "You're wrong, I love you very much."

"You do?" the boy asked, "Really?" he was skeptical but, being five and lonely, he wanted dearly to believe her.

"More than anything," she answered. "More than anything."

Voldemort lay in his soft, warm bed, contemplating the memory of the dream. He remember that every night for a year, he'd dream of the nice lady. But then, one night, she had announced that she would not be coming back for a very long time. But she did promise to come back, that they would meet again someday. One day, when he would least expect it.

"Could it be her?" he asked himself. He sat up and remembered the night before. How he'd cried like a baby. He'd hoped none of his followers had hear, but seeing as he was in bed, with no recollection of putting himself there, his hopes were dashed.

He stood up and went to the window and did something that he had never done before. He threw open the curtains and let sunlight stream in. After his his outburst, his hours worth of crying, he felt light. As if a small candle had been lit, and placed in the darkest part of his heart, filling it with it's gentle light. he never wanted to be trapped in the darkness again.

The sun was so bright against the snow that must have fallen the night before, and his eyes were so used to the dimness of the norm, that he had to squint and shield his eyes for several minutes before they adjusted properly and the light no longer hurt. The ski was a brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight for miles and miles. The snow that glistened upon the ground seemed to shout his name and he had to greatly repress the urge to run out of the house to run about it like a child.

Only the usual rapping at his door was able to break his gaze from the window. Wormtail walked in with the breakfast tray and tea cart. He stopped in astonishment, "Master, it's so bright in here." He looked over at Voldemort as he stood by the window.

Voldemort did not growl or glare at the man as he usually did. Instead he smiled, a genuine, happy smile. "Good morning, Wormtail. Yes, I am aware that it is bright, I wanted the window curtains open today."

Now Wormtail was sure his master was il. It was the only possible explanation.

Voldemort continued, "I am tired of living in darkness. From now on, unless it is night, all curtains in the manor are to be open." He walked over to the wall by his bed, touching it, "Look, I never noticed before, but this room, it is a handsome green shade, the likes of which I have never seen before, like a fir tree." he turned back to his servant, "Did you ever notice? Forty years in this

place and I never saw. I wonder what other colors there are, what other things I have overlooked while in the dark."

Finally, Wormtail understood, it must have been the aftereffect of the crying he had done the other day. He'd expected the master to be sullen and unusually grumpy today, but instead, it seemed to have left his master feeling better. As though the weight of the world had been lifted off his back and indeed, the old wizard did seem to be standing straighter, taller even. And he would encourage

anything that left his master feeling so happy. "I will see to it at once, Master." he made to do as he was commanded,

"But first," Voldemort raised a hand, "I wish to have my breakfast in the dining room this morning, with Miss. Grace." He reached into the closet and pulled out a moth-eaten frock and transfigured it into a lovely turquoise dress. "Take this to her and allow her to bathe and change into it."

Wormtail nodded and took the dress and used a sending charm to order the breakfast and tea down to the dining room.

Voldemort took out of the closet, his finest black robe and went to his own bathroom. He wanted to look his best.


End file.
